


I suck at titles, but this is a Brencer sick!fic drabble

by PanicintheTARDIS



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Drabble, M/M, My First Fanfic, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanicintheTARDIS/pseuds/PanicintheTARDIS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rummaging around in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, Spencer pulled out the thermometer, pain killers and the menthol-nasal-spray thing that Brendon had insisted on buying one time and had never used. You never know, it might help. Next, he went to the kitchen, put the coffee on for himself and grabbed a glass of water for Brendon. He's totally awesome at this looking after sick people shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I suck at titles, but this is a Brencer sick!fic drabble

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfic I ever attempted to write, so...yeah... It's a Brencer sick!fic!drabble!thing and it has basically no plot at all... Forgive me for the suckiness!!

As soon as he woke up, Spencer knew something was wrong. It was 10am and the house wasn't filled with terrifying industrial-noises made by smoothie makers, and no impromptu, shower-renditions of Queen songs were coming from the bathroom. (Which to Spencer's ears are perfect any time after lunch.) _Where the fuck is Brendon?_

As he stumbled out of bed on his way to the kitchen, Spencer poked his head around Brendon's half-open door to find him sitting up in bed, wrapped up like a burrito and sniffling. "Bren? Are you okay, man?" Spencer asked. He couldn't help but be worried when Brendon uncovered part of his face that was previously cocooned, and croaked pitifully: "Speeeeeeeeeeeence, I'm dyiiiing," before rolling onto his side. Spencer retaliated by rolling his eyes: "Dude, I told you to take an umbrella with you yesterday. I'm going to go and get the thermometer and check your fucking temperature because we're supposed to be meeting Pete this afternoon!" Brendon responded with a grunt.

>•<

Rummaging around in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, Spencer pulled out the thermometer, pain killers and the menthol-nasal-spray thing that Brendon had insisted on buying one time and had never used. _You never know, it might help._  Next, he went to the kitchen, put the coffee on for himself and grabbed a glass of water for Brendon. He's totally awesome at this looking after sick people shit.

Returning to Brendon's room, Spencer used his comforting voice: "Hey, B, I'm pretty sure you have the flu, so I brought you some stuff to make you feel better."

Spencer knew he tended to be a bit of a mother-hen when it came to sick people, but when Brendon rolled over and threw up in the wastepaper basket next to his bed, he was still a little grossed out. Swallowing his disgust, he sat down on the edge of the bed and started stroking Brendon's back soothingly, just like his mom used to do to him when he was sick. Whilst looking away, Spencer thought briefly about how glad he was that Brendon didn't have long hair like Ryan's had been the morning after he'd first tried alcohol. _Sigh..._  

When the vomiting finally subsided, Brendon rolled back over and Spencer was struck by how ill he really looked. His hair was stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck with sweat. The chalky paleness of his face was accentuated by his dark circles, blooming with blue, purple, green and yellow, under his eyes. His normally moist, plump, pink lips were dry, cracked and pale. Even with all of those things though, Spencer still thought that Brendon looked like a Golden-God and that made him think that after all those years, he was still in up to his waist in " _The Brendon problem_ " (that was the name Ryan gave it).

If anyone ever asked Spencer whether or not he loved Brendon like a brother, he wouldn't hesitate to tell them: _Of course he fucking did!_  The problem didn't lie with that, but with the fact that maybe he loved Brendon a bit more than that. Well, actually, Spencer was pretty sure that he'd fallen headfirst in love with Brendon the first time they'd met -as in, really, proper in love with him... And that thought kind of terrified him. Six years had passed and Spencer had never said a word and, after the split, the band -and each other- was all either of them had. He really didn't want to fuck things up.

Anyway, as well as being a motherhen to sick people, Spencer was also a chronic worrier, everyone knew that, including Brendon, who, seeing Spencer staring at him, coughed and whispered: "It's alright, Spence... It's not as bad as it looks."

Spencer responded with a tut and then chuckled: "You always did have to play the brave, little toaster, Bren." and that made Brendon smile, remembering days on tour, waiting with Zack and him showing them music blogs where teenage girls said things like that about them both.

"But, seriously, don't be ridiculous. You have the flu and look like lukewarm death. You are staying right there while I go and make you soup. Do you want chicken or just vegetables?"

Brendon frowned and made a grumpy noise, "don't want soup. Not hungry."

"I'll make you chicken soup. It's my mom's secret recipe and you like it, I know you do."

Brendon seemed to pick up on the no-nonsense tone in Spencer's voice, so he didn't try to argue with him.

>•<

After cleaning out the vomit (something that he unfortunately had experience with already), Spencer went to the kitchen and flicked on the music player that was still attached to his iPod. He was in a _Beatles_ mood, so he switched to a playlist before getting the ingredients for the soup from the fridge.

Sometime throughout the preparation, Spencer couldn't help but start mouthing along, which then turned into singing under his breath, which then, when _Hey Jude_ came on, turned into full-on belting. When he realised that the sound of rustling fabric and sniffling was reaching him from the doorway, he stopped and looked around.

"I can't sleep, Spence," Brendon rasped, standing there, still wrapped in his bed sheet.

"You should try, Bren, even if you just lay there it's still resting and that will make you better." Looking at Brendon, Spencer realised how incredibly small and helpless he looked, and that he felt his heart flutter. _That's never happened before,_ Spencer thought. He also realised that he'd sounded quite a lot like his mom when he'd said that.

"You should sing more often," Brendon said softly, smiling and coming over to lean on his shoulder affectionately.

"That's your job, B, and you're not going to do it very well if you don't get better! So, if you're not going back to bed, at least go and sit at the table. Your soup'll be ready soon."

"Okay, _mom_ ," Brendon said, rolling his eyes, "but, seriously, you should carry on singing."


End file.
